


Mightier Than The Sword

by kaisamalleen



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Critical Role Reverse Bang, Fluff, Gen, Team Mom Pike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 20:03:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8681569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaisamalleen/pseuds/kaisamalleen
Summary: Vox Machina teach Grog to read.Written for the Critical Role Reverse Bang on tumblr.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Critical Role Reverse Bang on tumblr. Art by the wonderful trans-raspberry (http://trans-raspberry.tumblr.com/)

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s Pike that starts it.

 

She notices, after the Underdark, the Grog is a bit quieter than usual. Oh, he’s loud and rambunctious and as energetic as the barbarian normally is, but there is just something about him that seems a little … off.

 

She tracks him down one evening in Greyskull Keep, finding him staring seriously at his warhammer, laid in front of him. She thinks it may just be the quietest she has ever seen him.

 

They talk then, about the Underdark, about K’Varn, about Clarota, about tiny little brains on legs that can defeat the strongest among them with one little blow. Pike thinks, Grog does not like to be weak, she thinks, he has always been the strongest, able to stand between her and danger, take the hits and just laugh them off and keep going. She thinks, what must it be like to face an enemy that fights in a way that you cannot match, what must it be like to fight something that you cannot fight?

 

She thinks, how can I help?

 

* * *

 

Pike seeks out Percy soon after that conversation. Who better to ask about this, she thinks, than the man whose best weapon is his mind. Who creates wondrous and terrifying things from his imagination, whose wit and words are both impenetrable defense and stinging offense.

 

He points her in the direction of certain items, certain people who may be able to assist.

 

She asks him, would you be able to help out? You are so good with your words, the one who taught you must have been a wonderful teacher, you could pass on some of those lessons?

 

His eyes go cold and blank for a moment, and Pike is sure she can see a hint of black smoke curling just behind his head, but she blinks and it disappears.

 

I was taught many things as a child, he remarks mildly, back to their usual quiet, composed tinkerer. But I don’t think they’re the kind of lessons I should be passing on. But I do wish you luck with this endeavour.

 

Pike thinks, there is a story there, a deep hurt, and files it away to think over later. He is her friend after all, and not all healing is of the body. Not every hurt can be healed with a spell.

 

* * *

 

 

A couple of days of organising later, and her plan is finally ready. She takes her box of materials and finds Grog in the kitchen, devouring a plate of Laina’s pie.

 

It takes him a few moments, but he eventually looks up from his food, to her and her box.

 

She explains, that she wants to teach him to read.

 

She almost laughs at his confused reaction, but that would not help his confidence about this venture.

 

What? He asks. Why?

 

There are so many things she thinks she could say. That maybe learning a new skill using your mind will make it easier for you to fight creatures that use it as their primary weapon. That you are brilliant but people don’t see it because you don’t use fancy words like Percy. That I want the world to see you like I see you. That there are so many interesting things that lie in words and books. That maybe feeling smarter will help you feel stronger.

 

But she says none of these. Instead, she smiles, and starts pulling items out of the box. A large piece of slate, smoothed over. Large pieces of chalk, with fabric wrapped around them so they are less likely to break in clumsy hands. A slim little book, wrapped in red leather and beaten around the edges. Books have a lot of information in them, she says. Maybe you can find new ways to fight creatures in them. Maybe you can find their weaknesses there, and never be taken by surprise by an enemy.

 

He stares at her then, more serious than she has seen outside of a crisis, and she thinks that he understands everything she isn’t saying.

 

A sly grin crosses the serious expression. Can you teach me some dirty words to prank Vax with, he asks, and she laughs, nods, and they start.

 

* * *

 

 

But then they go to Vasselheim, and when they leave, Pike does not go with them.

 

* * *

 

 

Things get a little bit hectic after that.

 

Grog thinks that of everyone, Percy would be the best to ask to continue the lessons. Pike’s off in another city, but she started this, and he really wants to keep it going. Maybe he’ll even be able to write her a letter. He thinks that would make her happy.

 

But Percy...well, Percy.

 

Percy is driven, is unaware of anything around him. They leave to hunt giant birds for a while, and Percy doesn’t even seem to notice that they had left.

 

He asks Tiberius, before they leave for Whitestone, if he’d be able to continue what Pike started. Of course! Is his response, just let me sort out a few things, then I’d be happy to.

 

They try, on the road, but the low light of campfires and the hard travel don’t make for the best circumstances.

 

They reach Whitestone, Tiberius goes back to Emon, and then there are giants and undead and vampires to worry about.

 

* * *

 

 

Vex approaches him at Winter’s Crest, armed with chalk, slate, and a curious looking device. It is a square wooden frame with several sticks across the interior of the frame, with rows of little metal beads on them.

 

They find a quiet corner to sit, a tricky task with preparations for the afternoon’s festival well underway. The city has only been free of it’s vampiric masters for a short time, but it already seems much brighter that it was. All the life the vampires had stolen is returning to the city.

 

Vex seats herself beside Grog, and lays her items out in front of them. I hear Pike was teaching you letters, she remarks, so let's add numbers to it too. Then you can get good deals with the merchants. There is the unspoken, so you don’t get cheated by merchants, but Grog doesn’t mind. Vex is honestly a little scary when she is mad, and losing gold makes her mad, so avoiding that would be good.

 

By the time the festival has started, and the rejoin their friends, Grog can count the sides of some of his favourite shapes.

 

* * *

 

 

They return to Emon and Greyskull Keep is calm.

 

In a quiet moment, Grog searches for Percy.

 

The forge is blazing when Grog enters the workshop tucked in a corner of Greyskull, the heat warming the cold stones of the keep. Percy does not ask when he notices the items Grog is carrying, just requests that Grog meet him in the library, he just has a few things to finish here.

 

In the library, Grog lays out the items. Slate, chalk laid neatly beside it. It is a little shorter than it used to be, but he has taken care and it remains whole. Beside them, the slim red book, a little battered around the edges.

 

Percy arrives with paper, ink and quills. It turns into a bit of a mess at first, the feathers even more fragile in his hands than the chalk. The ink leaves black stains on his hands.

 

They try again a day later, back to chalk and slate. Grog shapes his letters with quiet intent, slow and methodical and very determined. The little red book lies to the first page, Pike’s carefully penned alphabet in full view.

 

Percy hovers in the background, a pale shadow guiding his hand.

 

Grog has a plan though, and they work well into the night. He knows what he wants to say, and Percy helps the words take shape. First written on the slate, practiced many times over until he has the words perfect. Then, even more carefully, in ink on paper, and by the time morning comes he has a letter to Pike.

 

* * *

 

 

Then the dragons come, and no-one thinks about much more than surviving for a while.

 

* * *

  


It’s Scanlan who finds him next.

 

One evening in Vasselheim, when the whole world feels like it’s waiting. Waiting for dragons to fly over, waiting for cities to burn, waiting for something, anything, whatever is going to happen next. It is the calm before the storm, where you can see it on the horizon but have no way of knowing when it will hit, or how long it will last. Or whether you will come out the other side.

 

Heard you were learning some words, big man. I’m wounded you didn’t ask me! After all, I am Scanlan!, Kingslayer and master of word and song!

 

I don’t want to sing I want to write, Grog points out.

 

Still, I’m hurt, he proclaims, holding a hand to his heart. You want some help though? He asks, a hint of seriousness peeking through the jovial facade.

 

Grog gestures to his slate and chalk, laid out next to the faithful red book. Pages of words are written after Pike’s alphabet, first penned by Percy and carefully copied in by Grog.

 

Wanna help me prank Vax?

 

* * *

 

Keyleth helps here and there. While they eat, while they travel, while they sit and discuss plans, she druidcrafts flowers and twigs into letters, and eventually into words. One day, she thinks, when this is over and they don’t have to worry about being seen from the air, she will skywrite ‘Grog the Victorious’ for the world to see, but most importantly, for one person to read.

 

* * *

 

Percy teaches him more words. In spare moments, between planning travel, relocating refugees, working out how they can survive in the face of a seemingly undefeatable foe. He teaches Grog new words, and they write them in Pike’s little book, first Percy’s elegant penmanship, then Grog’s careful, clumsy but readable copies afterwards.

 

The tinkerer splutters a little when he reads some of the words that Grog had added in with Scanlan, muttering about terrible language for uncouth folk, even as a tinge of red spreads across his face.

 

He points out some small errors Grog made in his renditions of the words, red and embarrassed even as he stubbornly keeps a straight face and continues writing.

 

* * *

 

All of Vox Machina knows what is going on by now. It was never really a secret, just something not spoken of. They all want to see Grog do well, even if some of them might have a … rocky relationship at times.

 

So when Vax returns to his room one night to find ‘Vax sucks’ written on the walls, he is simultaneously irritated and proud. He smiles, even as he vows revenge.

 

* * *

 

The lessons fall by the wayside a little as they head towards Westruun where a dragon awaits, as does Grog's Uncle. The others are preoccupied with thoughts of Umbrasyl, of Titanstone Knuckles and the Herd of Storms, and while Grog thinks of these things too, there is also the thought of, I am better than I was last time they saw me, I have become more than they ever thought I could be.

 

So he practices his letters diligently, studies the words in the battered red book, writes them in the dirt every chance he gets. And when it is all over, the Hope Devourer dead, the Herd moved on, he carves his name under the little boy’s painting on the wall - Grog, of Vox Machina.

 

* * *

 

The world doesn’t end with the battle with Umbrasyl, and nor does Vox Machina. They continue on to the Feywild and collect another vestige. Pike is with them for a time, albeit mostly in glowy form, and Grog shows her all the words he has been collecting in the little red book, accompanied by scribbled shapes with their sides carefully numbered. Light is a little hard to see properly in the forever dusk of the Feywild, but he swears she glows a little brighter.

 

In the snowy devastation of Draconia, as they bury their friend in the ruin of the library, Grog picks up a book and takes it with him. He thinks, Tiberius was going to help, but he left before he had the chance. He thinks, Tibs loved his books, loved his magical artifacts, loved his home and died defending it. The book he takes with him is labelled ‘Mythical Magical Artifacts’, and he thinks, this is one way he can honour the life of their friend. (The book takes him a while to read, full of complicated terminology as it is. But he keeps it with him always, tucked in a pocket next to the little red leather book he started with.)

 

Vox Machina continues on, fighting dragons and collecting vestiges. Percy falls, and Grog sees his overly long, complicated name vanish from the barrel of Ripley’s gun. Percy falls, and they bring him back. Ripley falls, and does not get up again. The white dragon falls, and does not get up again. Tiberius fell, and there was no-one there to help him up.

 

* * *

 

Pike watches Vox Machina return, a little battered and bruised, but otherwise whole. Her family is hurting, from dragons, from old enemies, from the weight of the world placed on their shoulders.

 

But it is not hopeless, she thinks as she finds Grog and Percy in the library, poring over a slightly battered book. Grog is not the fastest of readers, still stumbling over long words, sounding them out and looking to Percy for meaning when he discovers a new one, which Percy provides absentmindedly. But Grog is reading, and her heart warms to see it. Maybe the world still needs to be saved, maybe there are dragons threatening to destroy everything they love. Maybe their little family is a little broken and bruised. But there is one hurt that has begun to heal, though the process may be slow, and that gives her hope for everything else. If this was possible, then maybe what seems like an insurmountable challenge is not so far out of reach after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This is really only the first draft. I wrote this just before the deadline, as uni kept me busy with exams, and I was then packing everything to move house 0.o I had so many grand ideas that didn't get written due to time constraints. So, this may be re-written in the future. 
> 
> This also turned into a little bit of Team Mom Pike. 
> 
> Edit: A few minor corrections, fixed typos and strange sentences here and there.


End file.
